


Thnks Fr Th Knckrs

by rosiedoesfic



Category: Bandom, Fall Out Boy
Genre: Fetish, M/M, Underwear Kink, webcam
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-30
Updated: 2012-12-30
Packaged: 2017-11-23 00:02:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,076
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/615854
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rosiedoesfic/pseuds/rosiedoesfic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For the sosodirty kinkathon; prompt: panties.</p><p>Things get a little out of hand, after a fan throws a pair of panties on stage at a show.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Thnks Fr Th Knckrs

**Author's Note:**

> Stretching the boundaries of my general style on this one (read: I don't write porn); all IM typos are the boys' and the events at the first two shows are based on genuine events (see: thnksfrthknkrs). What happened afterward, is to the best of my knowledge entirely untrue.

**Thnks Fr Th Knckrs.**  
_Besides, we've got such good fashion sense._

 

It took Patrick several seconds to establish what the brightly coloured pile at his feet actually was. He leaned forward, still fretting out the chords, and squinted at the shocking pink and electric blue garment on the edge of the stage – it actually looked a lot like – 

_Dude! Oh my God..._

Mortified, he backed away, feeling himself blushing and hurrying over to his mic, catching Pete's eye for a second as he went; trying to convey, _'Please tell me those aren't what I think they are!_ ' as his friend sauntered unsubtly over to Joe's side of the stage, where the offending item still rested.

He could tell by the broad, leering grin on Pete's face that oh yes, yes they were _definitely_ what they'd thought they were. Charlie had ducked onto the stage to retrieve them and was brandishing them delightedly: a pair of obnoxiously bright, lacy panties with blue trim and fucking _ribbons_ dangling cheerfully from the sides. He tried to hand them to Jeanae, who recoiled, cackling, and they were instead passed to Dirty – which was something of a relief, because they would inevitably have been lost by the end of the next song anyway.

Or so he'd hoped.

When he stumbled off stage, grasping for the nearest towel and peeling off his jacket with a sweaty grimace, glasses still missing, he was met with a hysterical blur of colour rushing past him and a chorus of caterwauling laughter.

"Hey – hey, boss, you forgot your panties, man!"

Patrick squinted and blinked the sweat out of his eyes before shoving his glasses back on.

Dirty stood before him, a proud grin on his face and a pair of pink and blue lace panties stretched over the cap on his head.

"Thanks, Dirt – but you're welcome to keep them... Maybe Beth would like some projectile undergarments or something..."

"Nah, her butt's too big what with the baby and everything... not that I mind..." Dirty shrugged sincerely, as if it had been a serious offer, and tugged the knickers from his head.

"Dirty! I told you to put them _on_ – not put them on your head!" Charlie bellowed, catching him in a playful headlock and dragging him – choking over-dramatically – several feet into the dressing room. "Never fucking listens..."

"They only – get off! – they only fitted on my head, man."

"That's because you're too much of a fat fuck."

"And also," Pete agreed, walking in and plucking the panties from Dirty's grasp, "they're fucking _ugly_."

"Then why don't you try them on?" Patrick muttered, wishing Jeanae would wander back out so he could take off his shirt, which was clinging to his skin as if he'd taken a shower in it. 

"Give 'em to Troh, he'll do it..."

"I'll do what?" Joe demanded suspiciously, ambling in with a water bottle sportscap tucked into the corner of his mouth.

"Patrick wants you to try on his panties."

"No, I don't!"

"Patrick wears _panties_?" Joe asked, cocking his head and gazing at him curiously for a moment.

Pete snorted from across the room. "Probably."

"Asshole."

"Tranny." Pete licked his finger and drew a number one in the air, then tossed the panties at Joe, who entirely failed to catch them, but none the less tracked them down under a chair and examined them contemplatively.

"They're like, _brand new_..."

"Nah, they probably came from some tween or something, kind of."

"No, dude – there's still a tag, here. They're new." 

Joe shrugged and stuck his bottom lip out, and when Patrick turned around to see what everyone was whooping and howling about, Joe was adjusting himself with the shocking-pink garment pulled over his jeans like some kind of superhero drag act.

"Oh my _God_."

"Whadya think? Personally, I'm thinking they're pretty damn sexy..."

"They're not really your colour, Joe."

"No! No – look, the ribbons totally accentuate my eyes!"

"Bro, with those on, no fuck's looking at your eyes..." Pete assured him drily.

Patrick tutted and turned back to his bag; he wasn't going to indulge them. He gathered his things and made his way out to the bus, and that – he hoped – was going to be the end of that.

\----

In the early hours of the next morning, having spent the evening after the show slumped on the bed and playing "Guess the Plot Twist" on some made-for-TV movie about a middle-aged woman tracking down a holiday fling from her teens, Joe found himself yawning widely and patting Patrick on the back as he rolled wearily off the mattress beside him and announced that he was going to bed.

"Hope the bed-bugs don't bite..."

"How reassuring. Thanks, man."

"You're welcome," Joe grinned, climbing to his feet as Patrick picked up his keycard from the dresser and shuffled to the door. "See you in the morning..."

"Not if I see you first."

Laughing gently as Patrick closed the door behind himself, Joe scratched absently at his belly and pulled his bag toward him to look for some clean boxers to put on after his bedtime shower. And there they were: the pink lacy panties with the blue ribbons.

He didn't know how they'd got there – although he could hazard an educated guess – he just knew he hadn't put them there himself. Smirking, he held them up to study them again. They were actually kind of fun-looking – like they should belong to someone with a sense of irony and who didn't take themselves too seriously. To be perfectly frank, he didn't know too many girls like that, but he lived in hope that some existed.

Catching sight of himself in the full-length mirror on the wall, he chuckled and held them up across his hips, admiring his reflection. He'd always sort of wondered about girls' underwear – it always looked so scratchy and uncomfortable; and so _skimpy_. But it was so much more imaginative than what guys got to wear – way more interesting than tighty-whities, or jockey shorts or those horrendous cock-cupping thong things with bowties or slogans attached. Well. Now he had an opportunity to find out, didn't he? He was getting into the shower anyway, so he may as well just give it a go quickly – for a laugh. What harm could it do?

Hurriedly, and still chuckling to himself, he pulled off his shirt, dropped his pants and balanced on one wobbly leg to pull the panties on.

 _Not... not_ actually _that bad..._

He took a moment to arrange himself, twisting slightly to regard his reflection, and then paused to tie the bright blue ribbons dangling from the waistband into careful little bows. He'd just picked up the ends of the second one when the hotel room door swung open and Patrick ducked back in, wielding the keycard he had picked up on his way out. It seemed to take him a second to even look up and realise what he'd stumbled in on, but when he did his eyes widened almost beyond the realms of plausibility and he turned a bright, fiery red.

Neither of them said anything, they just gaped at each other dumbly; Joe's eyes on Patrick's mortified expression, Patrick's eyes on the rather revealing lace stretched over Joe's crotch.

It was a hideous stalemate – neither of them able to move or speak or seemingly even _think_ about how to react until Patrick was met with some surge of sense or reality, and he scurried to the dresser, switched the card in his hand for the one he'd left behind, and made a very, _very_ quick exit.

It took a week before he'd look Joe in the eye again, but he'd definitely learned to knock.

\----

The sight of one of his best friends practically naked, except for virtually see-through girls' knickers, was scarred on to Patrick's retinas for days after it happened. They didn't mention it; things like that were best left well alone – it was an accepted convention between dudes: either you went out of your way to mock and destroy your bud's reputation, or you literally took the experience to your grave.

However, when they returned to Hammersmith a few months later and an absolute torrent of women's undergarments was launched in their general direction – one pair, large enough to act as marquee, leaving the stage atop Gabe's beaming head – it rather ripped the scab from that old wound.

He could tell by the look on Joe's face that this was not his favourite moment ever.

The only way of handling it, as per the unwritten rules of Brodom, was to mock him horribly for his previous indiscretion. And that was why, as they finished up in the dressing room, ready to head to the hotel – lingering after everyone else had run off down the corridor whooping – Patrick crept up behind Joe as he checked for messages on his phone, and dangled the prettiest and most outrageous pair he'd found from the pile Dirty had collected, right in front of his nose.

"Saw these, and thought of you..." he informed him in a stage whisper, letting them fall; the shimmering greyish-lilac and black lace frills dropping into the hand Joe automatically extended to catch them.

He turned to scowl back at Patrick, his phone still pressed to his ear, but Patrick was already backing away and picking up his bag. He blew Joe a taunting little kiss and made a hasty exit, jogging to catch up with everyone else.

Four hours later, tucked into his bunk with his laptop propped on his knees, he received a soft _ping!_ from his email notification and absently clicked on the pop-up for his message.

>   
>  **From:** Joe Trohman  
>  **To:** Patrick Stump  
>  **Date:** 3 April 2007, 03.37  
>  **Subject:** (no subject)
> 
> Now think of me.

It took a moment to realise that there was an attachment, and at best Patrick expected a gif of a gigantic donkey penis or a prolapsed anus, or something equally revolting; he did _not_ expect a slightly over-exposed photograph of the inside of Joe's bunk, and a close-up shot of Joe's bare stomach and thighs, the light from the flash reflecting from the contours of the shiny fabric from the panties Patrick had given him.

There was a sharp lurch in the pit of Patrick's stomach. "Oh my God!"

He hurriedly clicked delete – several times more than was necessary – and covered his mouth with his hands in horror.

"What?" Charlie's voice asked from the bunk above him.

"Uh... just. Um. Nothing."

"Stop looking at porn."

"I wasn't!"

"Whatever."

"I said I _wasn't_!"

"I bet he was," Joe's voice chimed in mischievously from across the aisle.

" _You_ – " Patrick spluttered, wanting to glare out of his bunk at him, but knowing that he was far too red in the face and also, far from sure he could look Joe in the eye ever again. "You just... go to bed or something."

"I _am_ in bed."

"Shut up!"

" _Everyone_ shut the fuck up!" Andy cut in. "I can't hear the TV!"

They did as they were told, and Patrick turned his attention back to his computer, pinching the bridge of his nose as he remembered what he had seen mere moments before. That dude was such a freak. Who the hell did that? Seriously?

_Ugh._

Shaking his head, Patrick picked up his laptop and gazed dully at the screen. He totally had to get back at him for that. Almost on impulse, he ran his fingers across the touchpad and clicked on the trash icon. He should keep the picture. For blackmail.

He opened it, to save the file, and for a moment he found himself lingering on the image, absently noting that those panties were far more attractive than the ones he'd originally caught Joe posing in; he deserved a pat on the back for his taste in ladies' underwear, that was for sure. And the material – although clearly not real satin – had an attractive shimmer to it; and it flattered certain parts of his anatomy in ways Patrick thought perhaps all guys could profit from. If they knew about it, that was. But they didn't. Because most guys didn't wear girls' knickers or send photographs of themselves doing so to their friends. Or, more importantly, hide in their bunks looking at said photographs of their friends with quite this much interest. They almost certainly didn't look at the picture and want to smooth their hands over the fabric to see if it felt any more luxurious stretched over skin than it had balled into his hand.

He closed his eyes tightly and manoeuvred his fingers across his touchpad from memory, trying to save the image without looking at it again.

And then there was another soft bloop from his laptop, causing him to open one eye curiously, to find a pop-up from his instant messaging program on the screen in front of him.

 **TrohrannosaurusRex** : So, on a scale of 1 to seriously fucking hot...

Patrick balked at the screen and hurriedly typed back his response:

 **SophomoreStump** : You are a horrrible person.

There was a short pause and then:

 **TrohrannosaurusRex** : Admit it – you think theyre hot.  
**SophomoreStump** : Shut up.  
**TrohrannosaurusRex** : You're not denying it then? Haha.  
**SophomoreStump** : You're a pervert.  
**TrohrannosaurusRex** : Haha. You love it. Don't pretend.

Patrick's heart was thumping inexplicably hard in his chest and he could feel himself breaking into a cold sweat.

 **SophomoreStump** : Don't try to get me involved with your kinky panty thing, Trohman.  
**TrohrannosaurusRex** : TECHNICALLY they're your panties... and you like gave them to me...  
**SophomoreStump** : It was a joke!  
**TrohrannosaurusRex** : Yeah, yeah. You keep telling yourself that...  
**SophomoreStump** : You are such a creep!  
**TrohrannosaurusRex** : I'm a creep in sexy panties that you gave me tho, dude.

He wasn't even sure why he typed it, but before he knew what he was doing, Patrick had asked:

 **SophomoreStump** : You still have them on??  
**TrohrannosaurusRex** : ;) Ohhhh yeah.  
**TrohrannosaurusRex** : Why? Wanna see?  
**SophomoreStump** : NO!  
**SophomoreStump** : Everyone is right there you freak!  
**TrohrannosaurusRex** : And if they wasn't?  
**SophomoreStump** : You'd still be a creepy perv.

That time he could actually hear Joe chuckling in his bunk.

 **SophomoreStump** : I've got the point, now, ok?  
**TrohrannosaurusRex** : Oh really?  
**TrohrannosaurusRex** : I knew they were like hot and stuff but seriously...  
**TrohrannosaurusRex** : but it's all good. i wont think any less of you for having seriously excellent taste.  
**TrohrannosaurusRex** : They're pretty sexy actualy.  
**TrohrannosaurusRex** : You should try them.  
**SophomoreStump** : No!  
**TrohrannosaurusRex** : Aww why not?  
**SophomoreStump** : Because I'm a man!  
**TrohrannosaurusRex** : Seriously? You have better boobs than most girls I know.  
**TrohrannosaurusRex** : But like... it's only fun right?  
**SophomoreStump** : You asshole!  
**SophomoreStump** : Stop bitching about my fucking weight it's not funny.  
**SophomoreStump** : And no!  
**SophomoreStump** : I don't think it's fun. Ok? 

There was another weighty pause before Joe responded, and Patrick found himself talking a long, deep breath to try to steady his nerves, tapping his fingers jitterishly at the plastic casing under his hand.

 **TrohrannosaurusRex** : I was just kidding about the boobs.  
**TrohrannosaurusRex** : Bbut I totally think you should try the panties.  
**SophomoreStump** : BUT WHY?!  
**TrohrannosaurusRex** : Why not?  
**TrohrannosaurusRex** : They're just clothes.  
**SophomoreStump** : Yeah – so why bother?  
**TrohrannosaurusRex** : Because it's kind of sexy...  
**SophomoreStump** : Why do you want me to be sexy?!  
**TrohrannosaurusRex** e: Im rolling my eyes at you right now you know that right?  
**TrohrannosaurusRex** : I'm just SAYING you should try it. It's cool and it's not gonna make God kill baby animals or anything...  
**TrohrannosaurusRex** : Get a sense of humour dude, geez...  
**SophomoreStump** : I have a sense of humour! But I also like to have some dignity.  
**SophomoreStump** : Now stop bugging me.  
**TrohrannosaurusRex** : Why?  
**TrohrannosaurusRex** : So you can have a couple of private minutes with my pic?  
**SophomoreStump** : I hate you  
**SophomoreStump** : Go away.  
**TrohrannosaurusRex** : You go first.  
**SophomoreStump** : FINE!

Patrick slammed down the lid of his laptop and stowed it in the magazine pouch at the foot of his bunk. He was going to go to sleep and forget about the whole damn thing. Fucking Trohman... who the hell thought their friends wanted to see them in panties, anyway? Who the hell wanted to see their friends in panties?

He punched his pillow irritably, hoping to make it more comfortable, and settled down to sleep. No sooner had he closed his eyes, though, than he was met with visions of the picture, tacked to the backs of his eyelids; that glossy material stretched over the clearly defined curve of Joe's dick, the way it emphasised and accentuated it to make it seem far larger than it ever had when Patrick had caught him in regular boxers in the past.

It took him a long time and a sudden clench in his chest to realise the reason that Joe seemed bigger than he remembered; he was _half hard_ under that shimmering material. And if he was turned on then, what the hell was he doing now?!

The cracks between the curtains on Patrick's bunk spilled no light from outside, and everyone else had fallen quiet, save for snores and the occasional murmur of one dude or other talking in his sleep, but amid the deep breathing, Patrick was sure he could hear a much shallower rasp from across the aisle. There was an occasional quiet rustle of fabric and barely perceptible creak of movement in the bunk opposite.

_Oh my God._

He rolled carefully on to his back to listen – telling himself he was just making sure that he was imagining things – but the mental image lingered; Joe's hand slipping beneath the smooth, delicate material, letting it bunch and slip down a little from the angle of his tattooed wrist...

The abrupt silence from the opposite bunk was what alerted him to the involuntary gasp he had issued as his own hand found its way into his boxers. He hadn't meant to – he certainly hadn't _wanted to_ – but something else had driven him. He was tired; overworked. Maybe he just needed a break.

But there was a tiny, unmistakeable laugh from the bunk beside him and the sound of motion resumed; more deliberate this time, accompanied by small but just audible sighs.

 _He knows you're listening, dude. He totally knows_. And yet, he hadn't stopped; and neither had Patrick. He caught his lip between his teeth and closed his eyes to better visualise the careful movements being made just a couple of feet away; to echo them, always imagining the feel of the material against his hand.

\----

Waking up, the next morning, still wearing the garment of the night before, Joe couldn't help laughing to himself. He was a laidback guy with an open mind, and he was _always_ happy to indulge a new experience; provided it wasn't likely to result in his immediate incarceration or death. He had no qualms about being risqué with other dudes – he'd made out with guys in his younger years, mostly for dares, and even gone so far as to jerk off one of the dudes who had briefly tried out as their second guitarist, purely because Pete had implied that he wouldn't have the skill. Growing up in that environment there had been stupid games and circle jerks all the time – it really all meant nothing – but he knew for a fact that Patrick had never involved himself in such shenanigans because he always left if he thought things were getting too fruity.

Knowing that he'd managed to coax him into such licentious behaviour was actually something to be rather smug about, as far as Joe was concerned. Not that he planned to share the information; that would require explaining the panties and he kind of wanted to keep that element to himself, for now.

The first time he saw Patrick that day, he was climbing out of his bunk, looking blushed and dishevelled, and Joe found himself grinning at him knowingly. Patrick did not seem amused; he snatched up his jeans and a t-shirt and pulled them on, then made a quick exit to find some breakfast in the kitchenette. Nobody else was up, except Andy, who was busy stretching for his morning workout, in the lot outside. Joe followed Patrick into the back of the bus, and pulled the door shut behind him.

"Good morning," he murmured, playfully patting Patrick's ass as he squeezed past. 

Patrick glowered at the toaster, as if that would make it cook his breakfast quicker, and pretended he hadn't heard.

"So... you really like the panties, then, huh?"

No answer.

"I told you they were sexy. Which I mean, I totally think that you like, knew already..."

"Leave me alone."

"Aw, dude, that's just like... _cruel_ , basically. I thought you cared."

Patrick flipped him off and turned around with his plate, approaching the breakfast bench and sitting as far away from Joe as he physically could, his face as red as the cherry goo easing its way between the edges of his Pop Tarts.

"Are you like, trying to tell me you haven't changed your mind about the panties?" Joe prompted in a jokey half-whisper, shifting closer and enjoying the wary look Patrick gave him in return.

"You are such a creep."

"You weren't saying that last night, dude."

Sighing heavily, Patrick dropped his half-nibbled Pop Tart back on his plate and demanded, "What is your obsession with this? Seriously?"

"You started it," Joe shrugged back without missing a beat.

"I so did not!"

"You totally did."

"I wasn't the one running around in girls' underwear!"

"Um, yeah, and I wasn't the one who was like, walking into other dudes' hotel rooms uninvited."

" _That_ ," Patrick told him seriously, "was an _accident_."

Joe shrugged and looked at him sidelong. "Whatever. It's not like I minded."

Patrick almost choked on his Pop Tart.

"I mean, like... it was _weird_ , don't get me wrong, but I wasn't freaked out or anything, basically. I mean, like... they're just clothes, like I said."

"But they're _girls'_ clothes, Joe!"

"Doesn't stop Pete and you don't freak out at him."

"Jeans are way, _way_ different."

"How?"

"Well... they're... I mean... they _look the same_!"

"If they looked the same why not just wear dudes' ones?"

"Because they don't fit right. He's too short. You know that."

"That's what he tells _you_ , anyway..." Joe teased, knowing full well that it was in fact the actual reason Pete wore them, but finding Patrick's squirming delightfully fun.

"It's _not_ the same as wearing panties, though! It's just not."

"Don't knock it 'til you've tried it, dude... I mean, you never wanted to join in the group activities when we were kids, _if you know what I mean_ , but you were totally into it last night..."

"Joe," Patrick began, in the warning tone that usually meant a tantrum was imminent, "you will _never_ speak of that again, you understand? Never."

Joe shrugged and stole the corner of Patrick's other Pop Tart. "Alright."

"Really?"

"Sure... but like... only if you actually _try the panties_."

"What?! No!"

"Well, I just mean like, it's down to you, dude... I think you're missing out, basically."

"And if I don't?"

"I dunno, dude... I'm not so into fooling around with dudes who are too uptight to acknowledge they're even into it."

"I never even said I _wanted_ to fool around with you!" Patrick told him indignantly.

"Actions speak louder than words, my friend," Joe told him, grinning and stealing the rest of the Pop Tart, then getting up and going to find out where the nearest showers were.

\----

There was a time, after the incident in the bus, when they all just went home. For the first few days, Patrick didn't even speak to Joe. They were a couple of thousand miles apart with hardly anything to say to each other anyway; they'd been together 24/7 for weeks and it was a relief to have a breather. And yet, somehow, Patrick couldn't help thinking about the last night in the bus and what the hell he'd been thinking.

He didn't _do_ that shit. He just didn't.

But then, he couldn't help feeling just a little excited at the prospect of Joe being in LA, and when his cell buzzed in his pocket the night before Joe flew down, with the simple question, "Shall I?" Patrick knew exactly what he was asking.

_Do what you want._

He could even picture the mischievous smile on Joe's face as he pressed send.

They went for dinner, the next night; Patrick, Joe, Pete and Dan, who had been down in California ever since they returned. Andy wasn't due until the next day, and the dynamic was strange – Patrick found himself distracted by the absence and intermittently wandered back into his own thoughts. At least, that was what he convinced himself was his reason. 

He caught Joe grinning at him speculatively from time to time, and glowered back, knowing exactly what Joe was thinking but unable to tell him to get his goddamn mind out of the gutter because there was no way he'd get involved in his weird little games again. Joe just kept on grinning.

When Pete disappeared to the bathroom and Dan ducked out to take a call, Joe sat back in his chair and bumped Patrick's ankle under the table.

"So, can I get a ride?"

Patrick balked at him. "We are _not_ talking about this here!" he hissed.

Across the table, Joe spluttered with laughter. "A ride, dude! Like _home_. Back to my apartment."

"Oh."

"I'm kind of like... open to interpretation, though..." he grinned, waggling his eyebrows suggestively.

Patrick didn't have time to respond before Pete returned, clutching a dessert menu triumphantly and rambling about ice cream sundaes with sparklers in. There was no way in hell Patrick was discussing this in front of him, so he glared at Joe and made a mental note to call him a freak when they were alone.

\----

"So, I got you a present," Joe announced, reaching into the pocket of his jacket as they sat at a junction, waiting for their turn to go.

"It's not my birthday for two weeks, dude," Patrick told him absently, leaning forward a little to look up at the traffic lights. This was a notoriously slow signal and they could be there for a couple of minutes, yet.

"It's not a birthday present." He held out the plastic bag, unable to suppress the chuckle of anticipation at Patrick's uneasy glance.

"They're panties, aren't they?" he muttered flatly, before he'd even reached out to take the bag from where it dangled from Joe's fingertip.

"Don't like, _guess_ , dude! Take a look."

Sighing impatiently, Patrick snatched the bag from Joe's hand and peered inside; there was a short pause before he pulled out the gift.

"I'm pretty sure they're your size," Joe assured him, watching gleefully as Patrick held up the pale blue garment in front of the steering wheel. They were almost boyish in cut, but covered in layer after layer of light, delicate frills. He'd thought it best to ease him in with something a little more sedate than a scarlet thong...

"Joe..."

"I figured they were like, a little bit retro and kind of old-fashioned, so they were pretty like, _you_ , basically..."

" _Joe_."

"I'm just saying _try them_ , y'know? What could go wrong, honestly?"

"I bet that's what you thought, right before I walked in..."

"Well, yeah. But I don't call that 'wrong'. Tripping over while putting them on and like, smashing my head on a piece of furniture and then like, being found by a chamber maid half naked with girls' underwear on and taken to the hospital like that... _that_ would be it going wrong. But it didn't, so like – what's the big deal?"

Patrick just stared at him dully until the driver behind honked to point out that the light had changed, and he put the car in drive.

"What am I going to have to do to make you drop this, Joe?"

"Easy. Just try them on."

"And that's it?"

"Yes," Joe promised earnestly. "Yes, just try them on. Then I'll drop it. When I've seen the proof."

"Proof?!" Patrick half-yelled, nearly rear-ending the vehicle in front.

"Well, it's only fair... and like... when you've tried them on, and realised it's seriously, _seriously_ hot, then you can come back and tell me I was right and like... whatever."

"There isn't going to be any 'whatever'."

Joe just smirked to himself. 

\----

When he got back to his apartment, Patrick dropped his keys on the table and slumped down onto his couch. He pulled the panties out of his pocket and held them up in front of his face doubtfully.

They'd never fit; but he did like them. They reminded him of the kind pin-up girls wore with basques and garters. He had no idea why the hell Joe thought they'd suit him, though. Truth be told, he was just a tiny, _tiny_ bit put out that he hadn't even bought him the sheer, shiny kind – these would _hide_ his assets rather than anything else. If he was really planning to try them on; which he wasn't. Not really. Well. Maybe just long enough to get the damn proof and show Joe that he'd done it, so they never had to speak of this again.

He lay there on his couch for quite some time, chewing his bottom lip until it was almost raw, and studying the panties carefully. And then, finally, with a sudden rush of determination to just get this over with, he scrambled to his feet, grabbed his laptop from the dining table in the corner, and headed for the bedroom, locking the door firmly behind him and making sure the blinds were safely drawn to ensure no telephoto lens was catching this.

He undressed slowly, more to stave off the inevitable than anything else, waiting for his computer to finish logging on. He'd put the panties on, take a photo with his webcam and send it to Joe; then it would all be over. Done. He could totally handle this. He just had to be a man about it.

Finally, taking a long, slow breath, he picked up the underwear and stepped carefully into it, pulling them up to sit surprisingly comfortably at his hips. Joe's judgement had been better than he'd thought; and when he looked up and caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror on the wardrobe door, he realised they were actually more flattering than he'd expected. The shape of the delicate lace frills actually suggested there was a lot more underneath them than there was, even on Patrick, who considered himself more than acceptably gifted in that department.

He adjusted himself a little, twisting to look over his shoulder and see if they were as flattering from behind and almost gave himself a heart attack when his computer made an unexpected _bloop_.

 **TrohrannosaurusRex** : You're still up, then?

Patrick paused to catch his breath, almost winded by the fright of thinking – even for a nanosecond – that he'd been caught, and then moved to kneel down beside his bed.

 **SophomoreStump** : Yes.  
**SophomoreStump** : And so are you.  
**TrohrannosaurusRex** : That's very observant of you.  
**TrohrannosaurusRex** : Good work, Captain Obvious.  
**TrohrannosaurusRex** : But actually I'm not up. I'm in bed.  
**TrohrannosaurusRex** : Thank you, wireless internet.  
**SophomoreStump** : Yeah.  
**SophomoreStump** : I'm pretty much the same right now.  
**TrohrannosaurusRex** : Are you wearing your panties?

Patrick's heart skipped several beats and he could feel a familiar twisting in his stomach.

 **TrohrannosaurusRex** : You are, aren't you?  
**TrohrannosaurusRex** : I mean I was kidding when I asjed but you totally are.  
**SophomoreStump** : As it happens, I was going to give you this proof you want, yes.  
**TrohrannosaurusRex** : AWESOME.  
**TrohrannosaurusRex** : Come on. Admit that they're hot.  
**TrohrannosaurusRex** : Because they are.  
**TrohrannosaurusRex** : They're like... kinky or something.  
**SophomoreStump** : Do you want this picture or not?  
**TrohrannosaurusRex** : Totally!  
**SophomoreStump** : Then stop being a smart ass.  
**TrohrannosaurusRex** : Im not being a smart ass dude!  
**TrohrannosaurusRex** : I'm serious.  
**TrohrannosaurusRex** : Yuo're like way convinced I'm just tryin to embarrass you but I'm totally not  
**SophomoreStump** : Bullshit.  
**TrohrannosaurusRex** : I'm serious!

There was a short pause, then:

 **TrohrannosaurusRex** : Turn on your webcam.  
**SophomoreStump** : Why?  
**TrohrannosaurusRex** : I want to see.  
**TrohrannosaurusRex** : and then I can like show you how serious I am.  
**SophomoreStump** : What do you mean?

**TrohrannosaurusRexhas invited you to a Video session. Activate webcam?**

**SophomoreStump** : my microphones broken on this thing.  
**SophomoreStump** : There's no point doing this.  
**TrohrannosaurusRex** : I don't need to hear you, dude, I just need to see.  
**TrohrannosaurusRex** : you cn still type to me.

Reluctantly, Patrick accepted the session and was met with a pop-up of Joe, propped against pillows, the light from the screen glinting on the lenses of his glasses.

"Ohhh. Hey. There we go."

Patrick took a deep breath and typed his response.

 **SophomoreStump** : Yes. Clearly.

"Wait. Are you like... _naked_ , or something?"

 **SophomoreStump** : I have the panties on.  
**SophomoreStump** : Like you asked.

"Cool! Can I see?"

 **SophomoreStump** : If this ever gets out I'll kill you with my bare hands I promise.

"Oh, c'mon! Like I'd do that to you..." Joe argued, looking wounded. "Here – show of solidarity..."

There were clicks and shuffles as Joe lifted his Macbook and turned it around to face down the length of the bed, displaying the fact that he was covered – barely – in a black, lacy pair that Patrick hadn't seen before, sitting neatly beneath his tattoo and draping small frills over the curve where his hip met his thigh.

Patrick's breath caught in his throat and he couldn't help staring dumbly at the scene in front of him. 

"See?" Joe's voice asked from beyond the view of the webcam built into his computer. "This is totally about introducing you to something like, majorly hot..." He turned the computer back around to face him, and smiled at the screen. "Oh man. You _really_ like panties..."

Blinking hurriedly and trying to smother the dazed look on his face, Patrick typed back.

 **SophomoreStump** : Maybe I'm just shocked that one of my best friends keeps showing me what he looks like in women's underwear.

"Oh, please, Patrick! How long have I known you? I've like, seen your 'I would so tap that' face a billion times. And I mean, it's not like I've forgotten what happened last time you knew I was wearing something like this... I'm guessing it's got next to nothing to do with me, so like... it must be the panties."

Patrick really had nothing to say, except:

 **SophomoreStump** : Do you want to see these or not?

"Obviously! I've only been trying to get you in some for like, ages..."

 **SophomoreStump** : If you laugh, that's it. I'm logging off.

"I won't. I promise, dude, I won't."

Taking a deep breath, Patrick carefully pressed his hands to the side of the mattress and stood up, bringing himself within the range of the webcam and spreading his hands in presentation. He turned slowly on the spot to show Joe all the necessary angles and the moved to kneel back down.

"Wait! Don't!"

 **SophomoreStump** : Don't what?

"Stop! Yet. Don't stop yet..."

 **SophomoreStump** : I did my part, Joe.

"Yeah, but... just give me a little longer... this is just like... _so hot_."

He could tell from the wide-eyed way Joe gazed at his screen that he wasn't kidding. His mouth was parted just a little and he seemed to be breathing a little oddly. Patrick stared back, self-consciously running his thumb under the waistband of his panties to adjust them; they were starting to feel just a little too warm and a touch restricting, compared to the loose, cotton boxers he usually wore, but with Joe staring at him like that he didn't want to take them off. Not yet. It was far too rare for someone – anyone – to look at him that way.

"Do that again."

Patrick paused and frowned at the screen for a moment.

 **SophomoreStump** : Do what?

"Touch them. Do that again."

He wasn't even sure why his hand was shaking, but as he ran his thumb under the waistband again, and tugged awkwardly at one of the layers, he realised that he was really starting to see where Joe was coming from.

His heart was racing so hard he felt a little dizzy as he leaned down to type again, not quite sure if he was really going to ask for this. 

**SophomoreStump** : Can I see yours?

For a second, Joe looked alarmed and Patrick winced, starting to feel a little sick – maybe this was all a prank, maybe Joe really had been trying to catch him out, after all.

"Dude... I – I kind of can't..." Joe told him, his voice sounding strained and odd.

 **SophomoreStump** : Why not?

"Because I'm kind of like... I mean, this is _really hot_ , if you follow my meaning."

 **SophomoreStump** : Stop fucking with me, Joe!  
**SophomoreStump** : I've done everything YOU asked haven't I?

"But I'm... I'm like..." There was a short pause, and Joe's screen shook and captured odd angles for a few seconds; it seemed that he was placing it further down the bed and moving around to settle himself back down. When the movement had stopped, Patrick was met with the exact angle he wanted; the laptop had been placed between Joe's thighs, facing up the bed toward the headboard – and there in the middle of the screen, looking almost as ridiculous as they did sexy, were the panties, pulled tight over the now obvious reason for Joe's hesitation. "Happy, now?"

Patrick didn't even realise that he was running his fingers over the pale blue material until Joe mumbled, "I'll take that as a yes..."

 

Joe couldn't sleep. He couldn't quite get his head around what had just happened. Patrick was supposed to be way more prudish than he was, but it was definitely he who had instigated this part. Not that Joe was complaining – but it just felt so surreal to watch the pale blue fabric of the panties _he'd bought_ growing dark with dampness, and all because he was looking at footage of Joe doing the same as he was. 

A small part of him was absolutely scandalised that it had gone this far; but the greater part of him was wondering what happened next. Where the hell they went from here. 

He was supposed to be at Pete's in six and a half hours, which was probably not the coolest thing right now, because Patrick was supposed to be there, too, and having to see each other _in someone else's house_ for the first time after what they'd just done was going to be a little awkward to say the least. Because somehow, this wasn't _like_ the times he'd fucked around with other dudes when he was a kid. That was truly nothing more than a game, but this – _this_ – was getting both of them way, _way_ too caught up to come even close to that level of casualness. All he'd wanted to do, watching his screen as Patrick's fingers moved over the lace, was to push his hand away and do it himself; but he really couldn't tell if that was because he literally couldn't and he obstinately wanted to do what he wasn't able, or because, after Patrick moved so he inadvertently placed both his face and his hips in shot, Joe really wanted to be the one making him do that. 

By the time he rolled out of bed to head to Pete's, a deliberate half-hour late in the hope that Patrick would get there first, he'd only had a couple of hours' sleep. He was tense and nervous, and wasn't totally sure that he hadn't brought about the band's apocalypse with his persistent teasing.  
In the car on the way over, he even considered turning around and heading home; but the truth was, he really kind of _wanted_ to see Patrick. Maybe not at Pete's house, but he didn't have much choice about that, now – they couldn't both take a raincheck, it'd look too suspicious. But as anxious as he was, there was a small knot of excitement in the pit of his stomach. 

When they'd signed off the night before it had been awkward and stilted, sure, but considering what they'd done, it could have been much worse. It was just weird doing that with someone and being unable to give them a kiss – or at least a _hug_ – at the end of it. Obviously, that hadn't been necessary with most of his previous experiences, because trying to hug a pal after a circle jerk would probably have ruined his already poor reputation forever. And gotten him a smack in the face. But this was, no matter how he looked at it, Not The Same. In a circle, you were getting off at _the same time_ as your friends; not _for_ your friends or _because of_ your friends or _over_ your friends (or, you weren't supposed to be). 

Yeah. This was different.  
He'd hoped that Patrick would get to Pete's first, so that he could maybe gauge from his reaction whether he'd said anything to Pete, but when Joe rolled up a deliberate half-hour late, Patrick's car wasn't in the drive.  
"Did I get my times wrong, or something?" he asked, the moment Pete opened the door. "I thought I was late..."

Pete grinned at him lasciviously. "I thought maybe you'd stayed over or something, what with you leaving together last night, kind of..."

Joe stared at him. "What?"

"Never mind. Lunchbox is coming later or something... he wasn't totally coherent when he called, honestly."

"He wasn't?"

"Nah... said something about not being able to sleep, or whatever. He's gonna show up in a couple of hours or something."

A couple of hours turned into five, and it was almost four o'clock before Patrick showed up. He appeared in the doorway to the yard, where Joe was sitting on the bench around the pool and playing with Hemmy, looking as though he hadn't slept at all. He was wrapped up in a hoodie, even though it wasn't remotely cold out, and had his hat pulled way down over his eyes. His entire body language suggested that he was on the verge of fight or flight and that seriously couldn't be good.

"Hey," Joe tried, not sure how to approach him but not wanting to look as though he was ignoring him, either, because that would be just plain rude.

"Hi."

"You okay?" 

Patrick took a hesitant step outside, glancing up toward the balcony outside the living room, and then walked over to where Joe was sitting. "I don't know."

"You don't?" Joe asked, starting to feel deeply nervous.

"Last night – "

"I haven't told him. I haven't said anything, dude."

"Good. But. Last night..."

"Yeah?"

Patrick gave a short huff and moved to pull Joe out of view of the house.

"Dude?"

Patrick didn't say anything, he just gave him a determined look and yanked him into an abrupt kiss. It only lasted a few seconds, but when Patrick pulled away and straightened his cap, Joe was left spluttering in surprise.

"Now," Patrick began firmly, "that's it, okay? We're done. You've had your little thrill, it's out of your system. Okay?"

"Um..."

"Don't you dare move the goal posts on this, Joe. Don't you _dare_."

"I wasn't, but – "

"No."

Joe found himself glancing back to make sure Pete wasn't on his way out with the drinks he'd promised, and trying to ignore the dog attempting to climb up on his knee. "You can't just... Last night was – "

"A one-off."

"But I just... like... Are you serious?"

"Am I laughing?"

"No, but – last night was _awesome_ , I was hoping that, like..." he gave a one-shouldered shrug and tugged at the pocket of Patrick's hoodie, as if that somehow meant something, "we could see what happened next, basically."

"I'm telling you what's happening next, though: nothing. You got what you wanted."

"I got more than I wanted, actually," Joe told him, wondering how he'd ever anticipated anything different to this. When they'd signed off the night before it had been awkward and surreal; the virtual equivalent of a stiff hug and a quick exit; it was hardly an invitation for more. "I just wanted to play dress-up. You're the one who like, started jerking off over it."

"We're just gonna pretend this never happened, Joe, okay?"

"Well, no, not really, dude."

"What do you mean, 'no'? You can't just -"

"I kind of think you're being a dick, honestly..." Joe told him, folding his arms and scuffing at the ground with his toe. "I mean... I don't get why you're pretending you weren't like, _majorly_ into it."

Patrick scowled at him, his face bright red, and didn't answer.

"No, dude, seriously. I want an actual like, _explanation_."

"I don't do that."

"Well, you totally did last night. Last night you did it all by yourself and like, a week ago you were joining in without even getting asked, so..."

"Yeah, but I didn't _want to_."

Joe stared at him, quite unable to rationalise this level of blind denial. "So, like... let me get this straight. Or, y'know... 'straight'... or whatever. _You_ gave me sexy little panties, and told me they made you think of me. You then basically got off to a picture of me wearing them, while listening to me having some personal time in my own bunk. And then – and like, I'm prepared to give you the actual _wearing the panties_ thing because, like, I did encourage you – "

"You blackmailed me!"

"I didn't blackmail you into fapping off over me on your webcam, though, man. And I seriously, _seriously_ did not blackmail you into just like, _kissing me_ when you got here. So, dude, I don't know where you're getting this crazy idea that you like 'don't do that', because you've been a pretty shitty job of not doing it, so far."

Patrick looked away, suitably chastened, and adjusted his hat.

"I'm not _saying_ you're gay or anything, dude, 'cause like I said, I don't even think it's about me, it's about the panties or whatever. I'm just saying that like... it's pretty obvious you're into it and there's nothing wrong with that, basically."

"I can name you like twenty people who'd say different, just off the top of my head."

"Who cares?" Joe shrugged, because really, who cared? "We're adults. It doesn't mean anything! Nobody's getting hurt. Nobody has to like, _know_ , except you and me... You were totally into it, I know you were, so why give up? That seems like, pretty dumb to me..."

"You just... you _over-simplify_ everything, Joe! In our position people do care what happens in our private lives and we can't just – "

"Why not, though? Seriously? Because unless you wanna keep kind of like, _shouting about it_ where all Pete's neighbours can hear, or want to like, post the video on YouTube, the only people who're gonna know, is you and me." 

For a minute, Patrick just stood there, chewing the edge of his nail and not looking at him.

"It's just a _thing_. It's not like we even touched each other, dude."

Lifting his head just enough to see him under his cap, Patrick gazed at Joe unblinkingly for a few moments, then shook his head and wandered back to the house without saying anything else.

\----

Pete was just walking back into the living room with his phone, when Patrick got upstairs. "You find Joe?"

"Why?"

"'Cause he's in the yard and I thought that's where you were going, before, or whatever..."

"Oh. Yeah. I did."

"You're not _still_ mad at him for getting you to drive him home, last night, are you?" Pete smirked, shaking his laces out of Hemmy's mouth and giving the puppy an encouraging prod towards the sofa with his foot.

"What? No. We're fine. There's nothing going on, it's just too hot outside. Okay?"

Spreading his palms in a gesture of "Just asking!" Pete rolled his eyes and made his way over to the balcony doors. "Yo – Trohman, come inside, dude. The princess is afraid of burning her pretty little nose, or whatever..."

"You are such a dick."

"Yeah, but I'm the only one you've got."

Ordinarily, the comment would have resulted in a kick in the shin and a bitchy retort, but today Patrick was just really not in the mood for casual emasculation. "Hey, you know what?" he snapped, tugging his keys from his pocket, pointedly. "You go hang out in the yard with Joe, okay? I'll just go home."

"What the fuck? I'm just kidding, dude!"

"Yeah, well I'm not in the mood, right now. I'll speak to you tomorrow or something, okay?"

"What? No – stay!"

"No."

Pete followed him to the front door, looking wounded and perplexed. "What the fuck happened to your sense of humour?"

"I forgot to take it off the carousel at LAX."

"Well, I'll call you or whatever..."

"If you have to."

Pete just stood at the top of the drive, Hemmy tucked into his arms, watching him leave. It made Patrick feel kind of shitty for being pissy with him, but he'd already spent all night and the better part of the afternoon freaking out about the whole thing with Joe and what it meant for him. It was like losing some part of his identity that'd he'd been totally comfortable with. He was a straight dude in his early twenties. It was that simple. One day, he was going to find a new girlfriend – one who wouldn't cheat on him while he was on tour – and he was going to marry her and have a family and that would be that.

His life plan had not, at any point, featured Joe or panties or pleasuring himself on webcam for him or anyone else. He didn't _want_ this. He hadn't planned this and he wasn't going to deal with it or indulge it any more than he already had done.

It had just been a long time. That was all. It was a familiarity thing; Joe was an extremely close friend and the panties made it just feminine enough for boundaries to be blurred. That's all it was, whatever Joe wanted to think. It was an accident, not some kind of sign of repressed desire. As soon as he got home, he'd take the stupid panties and throw them in the trash and that would be it. Joe would just have to get over it, or find someone else to play with. Pete would probably jump at the chance to put on girls' underwear and show someone his dick.

Every traffic light on the way home seemed to turn red just to piss him off; especially the ones opposite the giant billboards all around town, of some woman wearing nothing but a man's shirt and a pair of panties and advertising some mysterious product he was never quite able to identify. It was like the whole world knew what he'd done and was rubbing it in his face. The wedding dress shop opposite his apartment was having some kind of special sale on bridal underwear, too, and had embroidered undergarments suspended in the window display; it had been there ever since he got back from the tour, but he'd only noticed it that afternoon when he'd gotten in the car to head to Pete's. It made him kind of paranoid. 

He hesitated as he got out of his car, glowering at the arrangement as if it was a personal insult, not noticing two young women walking past until they were snickering at him as if he was a dirty old man leering at women's knickers. No doubt that would be in some asshole's gossip column within two hours... _And fuck you very much for that._

When he got into the apartment, the first channel on the TV was showing a rerun of some kind of Next Top Model underwear shoot; the second channel was a commercial for panty-liners with a helpful graphic illustration in case anyone was in any doubt as to what a pair of women's panties looked like. So he turned off the TV and logged into his computer – where the first email was spam inviting him to buy used panties from Japan.

It was actually starting to feel like a horror movie – like The Birds, or something – no matter where he turned, they were there. He'd slept on the sofa, the night before; being in the bedroom – the scene of the crime – was just too awkward. He'd had to take a shower and put on _actual_ pyjamas and then curl up on the couch in the living room, because there was no way he was going to be able to get any sleep at all, laying there thinking about black lace and the look on Joe's face when he realised what Patrick was doing. 

And it was all because of those stupid panties from the show. The ones Patrick had given him as a joke, and somehow Punk'd himself with in the process.

Because Joe had been right – he'd set it up, but Patrick had been the one to take it that far. Patrick was the one who couldn't stop himself. Without even thinking about it, he clicked through the folders on his computer and brought up the photograph Joe had sent him, over-exposed and full-screen, as if he'd look at it again and decide that no, despite jerking off to the thought of his friend wearing them and despite watching him jack off in a pair, there was really nothing appealing about them after all.

What the fuck was wrong with him? He was blaming Joe for it, but Joe was just playing with him, and deep down, Patrick knew that. He couldn't blame him for taking things too far when he genuinely believed he was enlightening Patrick to some simplistically brilliant Karma Sutra of self-abuse. It was just that if he didn't blame Joe, it mean that it was _his_ problem and he didn't want it to be his problem, because he didn't want to have to deal with it. Just walking into his own bedroom was hard enough.

He picked the panties up from the floor, intending to take them to the kitchen and throw them in the trash – but standing there, feeling the delicate lace on his fingers, he couldn't do it. Instead, he sank down onto the floor beside the bed and stared at them, running his hands over the soft fabric. Already, memories from the night before sprang to mind; the soft sounds from his laptop speakers, the shine of the lamplight on black and the feel of the lace against his skin – of knowing that Joe was watching...

That part was real, whether he wanted it to be or not. He could tell himself over and over that he hadn't wanted it – but at that point, he did. 

Instead of throwing the panties in the trash, he threw them into the washer-dryer with the rest of his laundry and switched it on (he didn't _plan_ on needing them again, but if someone found them it was definitely better that they found a clean pair that they couldn't prove were his) and then grabbed his wallet and keys from the living room. He was going to the mall, and he was going to get this out of his system.

\----

It was late when Joe stepped out of the elevator, pulling his keys out of his pocket as he walked and fumbling for the right one. He'd stayed at Pete's long after he'd intended to go, playing computer games until it got dark and then lounging on the balcony with the dog, talking about nothing and trying not to think about the fight that afternoon or what he was going to have to do to smooth things over. He'd left a message on Patrick's house line on the way home, just checking in and telling him he'd come by in the afternoon, if Patrick was going to be around – all the while quite sure Patrick was listening and ignoring him.

As it turned out, Patrick wasn't at home at all; he was sitting outside Joe's front door, propped against the wall with his knees drawn up and his arms folded over them. He looked asleep, at first, but at the sound of the keys jangling he lifted his head and scrambled to his feet.

"Um... hi."

"What're you doing here?" Joe asked, blinking at him and leaning around him to unlock his door.

"I just, um... I needed to," Patrick explained, without really clarifying anything.

"Well, are you like, coming in, man? People get kind of pissy with strangers lurking around the corridors late at night, usually..."

Patrick didn't even answer, he just slid past him into the apartment and Joe started to suspect that maybe Patrick was drunk. Really, really drunk.

"So... you like, needed something, huh?" Joe prompted, toeing off his shoes and dropping his keys onto the table just inside the door without bothering to turn the light on.

"Yeah," Patrick nodded back. "Yeah, see I did. Because, um... it turns out I'm a total dick."

"That's hardly news, man."

"Joe, I'm serious – really serious."

"Because of today?"

"Because of today. And last night. And the whole thing on the bus... I'm just a dick and I needed to tell you that..."

Smirking and giving him a half-shrug, Joe bumped him in the shoulder and told him, "That's still not news, dude. But it's nothing anyway – forget about it. Do you want some coffee or something?"

"No – Joe, I can't."

"Well, I've got like sodas and stuff without caffeine or whatever," Joe offered, heading toward the kitchen and assuming that Patrick would follow. When he turned to hand him a can of Crush, though, Patrick wasn't there; he was still at the end of the darkened hall, looking like he was trying to remember where he'd left his keys. "Patrick?"

"I'm not sure I should be here."

"No, you should be kind of like, up here getting your drink, man."

"The thing is," Patrick began, ignoring the can in his hand altogether and pulling a small, plastic bag from his pocket; bunching it together in his hands, "I've kind of got something for you. But I don't know if I... if y'know: I should. Or not. It just... seemed like a good idea at the time."

Sliding the can onto the kitchen worktop, Joe wandered back out into the shadows of the hall. "What is it?"

"Well. The thing is, y'know... I'm pretty good at ignoring things I don't like to think about. And I don't like it a whole lot when – when I can't ignore things. Y'know?"

"Yeah... but you've always been a stubborn asshole, dude. It's just you. It's fine."

"Yeah, but it's _not_ , because I'm blaming you for my own shit, and that's not fair!"

"You mean, like last night?"

" _Yes_. That's exactly what I mean. Last night."

"Look, dude – if you want it to be a one-time thing, then that's like, _fine_... I was just saying – "

"But what if I don't?"

For a moment or two, Joe just gazed at him in the light spilling from the kitchen and tried to figure out if Patrick was serious or just speaking hypothetically. The last thing he wanted was to make assumptions and say the wrong thing.

"Because... after I left you at Pete's, earlier, I was kind of thinking and... I thought maybe I was being kind of rash. And unfair. And actually pretty dishonest, all things considered, y'know?"

"Patrick – "

"Maybe you're right. Maybe I just need to loosen up and enjoy what feels good and not care what anyone else thinks. Maybe... maybe I even kind of want this."

"Want what?" Joe asked, swallowing with difficulty; partly in anticipation, partly afraid that the pendulum had swing too far in the opposite direction.

Patrick finally moved away from the door and pressed his plastic bag into Joe's hands. "I thought if I went to someplace where they were everywhere, I'd just get used to it. I'd get over it. But all that happened is that I started thinking about it more. And I couldn't stop thinking about it. Or you – last night – and then I saw these, and I just... I don't even know. But they're yours. If you want them."

The brand across the side of the bag read 'Victoria's Secret' but he'd already known what was in there. The material was delicate and luxurious under his fingers as he pulled them out, his stomach already a little tight with the urge to slip into them; wondering if Patrick had thought buy some for himself.

"They're awesome..." he whispered, smiling slightly. "I think I should try them on."

"Now?"

"Well... unless you want to like, go home and get online first..."

"No! No... no more webcams..."

"Then maybe just like, a litre of vodka and a couple of shots of tequila?" Joe joked, playfully twirling the panties around his finger by the label.

Patrick managed a jerky laugh and then allowed himself to be pulled toward the bedroom. He watched self-consciously, saying nothing as Joe tugged off his clothes, one item at a time, and laid them over the chair in the corner, but he looked away awkwardly Joe slipped his thumbs under the waistband of his boxers and carefully pulled them down; they were going to need to come off – there was no way around that. When he'd stepped into his panties, though – the dark blue, satiny material and cream lace clinging to his skin gently – he moved closer to where Patrick sat, perched on the edge of the bed, and ran his fingers over his shoulder, encouragingly.

"So... are they as awesomely hot as you were expecting?" he asked, turning his hips to show Patrick the smooth curve of his ass – only partially covered by the soft satin, cut to expose the lower third of each cheek, tantalisingly – and pretending he didn't feel just a little ridiculous.

On the bed, Patrick merely nodded; his lip clamped nervously between his teeth and his eyes wide behind his glasses.

"Do you like... want to touch, or just look? Because, I mean... they feel pretty amazing," Joe continued, stroking his thumb down the ruched detailing at each hip, punctuated with a tiny cream bow. 

"Uh... well. B-both. Maybe."

Reaching down, he took Patrick's hand and pressed it to the material, guiding his fingertips over the delicate trim and smiling just a little as Patrick's hand pressed more firmly in exploration. "See? They feel hot, don't they?"

"Y-yeah. They do," Patrick nodded, leaning forward a hesitant fraction, and then drawing back again, a second hand moving up to match the other, and then simultaneously running around to stroke along the lace arcing across Joe's skin. 

It was hard not to press forward, prompt him, so Joe just reached down and carefully removed Patrick's cap, tossing it to the chest of drawers behind him (and missing) and stroking his fingers gently through the fine hair beneath it. "I should probably warn you that I never really like... _planned_ for this awesome eventuality or anything, so I'm kind of. Just going with it, basically."

"Me too."

"I don't suppose that you kind of like... got yourself any, did you?"

Licking his lip self-consciously, Patrick shook his head. "No... but, I sort of..." he shrugged and looked down at his jeans. "I washed the ones you gave me."

"Yeah?"

"It's not... I mean, I wasn't _expecting_ this or anything, but..."

"Where are they, dude?"

Patrick almost laughed for a second, then leaned back a little and pulled up his t-shirt hesitantly, unbuttoning his jeans just enough to expose the pale blue fabric underneath. "...be prepared, right?"

Joe couldn't quite smother a chuckle; "You're such a fruity little dude, sometimes..." he teased, but he was already pushing Patrick's hands away, grinning as he moved to the zipper and pulling away the denim to properly expose the garment underneath; his thumb brushing tentatively at the lace as he did so, eliciting a small, startled gasp from Patrick at the touch. 

"Last night seriously, _seriously_ has nothing on this," he whispered, leaning close to Patrick's face for a moment and bringing them almost cheek-to-cheek before he pulled away – the bottom of Patrick's t-shirt and hoodie grasped in his hands. "Shall I like...?"

Barely managing a discernible nod, Patrick paused to kick his Nikes across the room and raised his arms in consent.

" _Cool_ ," Joe murmured, remembering at the last minute to take off Patrick's glasses for him and tossing them toward the relative safety of the pillows before he tugged at Patrick's clothes again.

Patrick was barely free before he folded his arms around himself, covering his belly.

"Oh dude, _seriously_. You're sitting on my bed like, _wearing panties_ and you're hiding your stomach like that's the embarrassing part? Really?"

Patrick actually laughed at himself a little and semi-reluctantly shifted his hands back to Joe's panties, resting them on his hips lightly and tracing the pale curves of lace back and forth across the front of his thigh with his thumbs dangerously close to his crotch. "I feel like I'm doing a Rubik's cube or something..."

"At least we never went for the whole bra thing..." Joe reassured him, one hand pressed into the mattress, the fingers of the other following the edges of the frills over Patrick's pale skin, wanting to tug on them and lift them one-by-one and discover what lay beneath them. He was about to suggest Patrick lay back when he did exactly the opposite, leaning forward and pushing Joe away slightly to peel off his socks and toss them in the direction of his clothes before pulling Joe back to him. Lip once again clasped between his teeth, he looked up at him questioningly, waiting for some sort of assent before he carefully leaned in and nuzzled at the groove where Joe's thigh met his torso. His breath tickled enticingly at Joe's skin as he exhaled, hands coasting back to Joe's ass, fingertips sliding cautiously under the lace and satin and pulling him closer.

"Oh. _Oh_ , okay."

There were teeth tugging almost imperceptibly at the material, then lips, moving gently over his hip – then back – and Joe could only push his fingers into the back of Patrick's hair and choke back a breathless whimper; suddenly and unavoidably aroused under the fragile fabric.

Patrick almost jerked away at first, as if he hadn't been expecting it, and Joe truly believed for a moment that it had all been far too good to be true and Patrick was going to grab his things and flee; but he didn't. He just gave Joe a surprised, delighted look and then tentatively brushed his fingers down to stroke lightly at Joe's balls and ducked closer again to press his mouth where his fingers had been.

" _Fuck_ , dude."

"Okay?" Patrick asked, hurriedly sitting up as if he thought he'd done something wrong.

"Yeahyeahyeah – yeah, it's like... it's _awesome_ ," Joe assured him quickly, afraid of putting him off. "Just... I kind of can't do anything for you, like this."

"Oh. Well, I mean – you don't have to – "

"No, dude, I want to. That's kind of the point... Just, like, scoot back or something."

Patrick did as he was told, sliding back across the covers and pulling his knees up slightly, as though he suddenly felt exposed, while Joe climbed onto the bed beside him.

"I've totally seen it all before, dude," Joe assured him, trying for a mischievous grin and reasonably certain that he'd faltered into predatory creep, unaided by the fact that he was running his hand down the inside of Patrick's thigh as he did it.

" _When_?"

"Um. Well, last night... and in the pool that time Pete stole your shorts... and we get changed together every night on tour, basically."

"Oh... well, I guess."

"Look, dude, I know this is like, 'all about the panties' or whatever, but I wouldn't be doing this if you didn't look totally fucking hot in the panties in the first place. But I mean... if you just want to spend the next hour just like, gumming at the party favours I could roll with that..."

Snorting, Patrick unfolded his legs and facetiously spread them as wide as he could across the bed, propped back on his elbows. 

"Yeah, I didn't think you'd go for that," Joe grinned, shifting to climb astride Patrick's left thigh, playfully poking at his navel and pinging the elastic on his waistband before making less high-spirited strokes down the layers of lace. "I love these fucking things..."

"I noticed," Patrick mumbled, running his fingers up to trace the neatly stitched ruffles at Joe's hip and subtly sliding down to rub where the material was pulled tight.

It was hard to breathe properly and maintain some of the composure he really thought he should, even with Patrick palming him through the satin and lace and laying under him with chewed lips parting under every little shift of his fingers. He couldn't help leaning forward to rest on one arm – he didn't have the athletic stamina to maintain awkward positions for more than a minute or two, and he wasn't going to pretend – but it brought about a natural grind against Patrick's hip that drew sudden, stuttering gasps from both of them; the dragging lace pulling at the panties and heightening the friction for them both.

Patrick issued a barely-audible, "Jesus..." and slid his arm around Joe's waist, the other looping into the side of his underwear and using them to pull him off of his thigh and more squarely against his hips. For a moment, neither of them spoke; they just gazed at each other, holding back light pants of breath as Joe aligned himself between Patrick's parted thighs and lowered his weight to press himself down on top of him. Patrick's hips gave an involuntary jerk at the contact and surprised them both, sending Joe face-first into the covers over Patrick's shoulder and reducing them both to near-hysterical giggles.

"Patience, dude, _patience_ ," Joe grinned against Patrick's shoulder, taking the opportunity to pinch playfully at his nipple while his weight was still resting across Patrick's chest.

Retaliating with a sharp slap to Joe's semi-exposed ass, Patrick bucked his hips more deliberately and ordered, "Shut up and move."

Joe did; Patrick's hands reaching down to grasp his buttocks and guiding him into a motion that more or less worked for both of them, Joe's face still pressed into the crook of his neck until their breaths were rapid and ragged and Patrick pulled his hands away to push at Joe's shoulders.

"Move, dude. I need you to move back a little," he gasped, hurriedly moving one hand back down to pull them back together at the hip. "Just on your hands, I mean. I want to see."

"I don't think I can last that long, though..."

"You won't need to – I'm almost – "

"I mean my arms, dude, I'm not some kind of gymnast!"

"Just try."

His arms were shaking by the time Patrick writhed up against him, and both their panties began to grow sticky with the wetness seeping through them and spilled under waistbands at the last, graceless thrust as lace and satin were tugged aside or bunched under the friction.

" _Fuck_ ," Joe mumbled, allowing himself a well-deserved slump back to Patrick's shoulder and spreading his aching arms across the bed either side of them.

"Maybe next time," Patrick murmured back with a breathless burst of laughter and patted Joe's back approvingly. "I think I'm gonna need a couple of minutes."

\----

For something that started out as a childish practical joke, it had the best outcome Joe could have imagined. Laying sprawled on his bed while Patrick reacquainted himself with the feel of the panties from that first, infamous photograph, the next morning, Joe decided he was going to have to start pushing his luck a little more often.

In fact, some nights during the months that followed, as they rocked out during the show, it was far more exciting to know what no one else did – beneath their jeans, where boxers should be, were sexiest strips of satin and lace that the Victoria's Secret website had to offer.

**Author's Note:**

> I just want to add a huge thanks to LJ's heyginger & untelling for a lot of last-minute hand-holding and betaing, and being very patient about my freak outs when I decided to scrap the original post. ♥ You girls are amazing.


End file.
